


A Madman and His Couch

by tromana



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio), The Mentalist
Genre: Case Fic, Community: mentalist_bb, Crossover, Drama, F/M, Multi-Era, Other, Science Fiction, The Mentalist Big Bang 2012, Time War, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tromana/pseuds/tromana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mentalist/Doctor Who crossover. Patrick Jane has strange dreams. There's a reason for that. He's not... exactly... human. And it all comes to a head when a dead body in a case mysteriously goes missing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Mentalist Big Bang 2012. With thanks to Miss Peg for betaing and kathiann for making the accompanying artwork.
> 
> I was encouraged to write this fic by several people, including: Elennare, Little-Firester84, Miss Peg and MerriWyllow. So if it's terrible, I refuse to claim full responsibility!
> 
> Multiparter, multi-era and also influenced by Big Finish Audio, and a healthy dose of Human Nature/Family of Blood. If anyone has any questions about which Doctor is which (and who companions are), just ask and I'll get back to you as soon as possible!

The Doctor stared at Romana, his mouth agape. They were surrounded by a cacophony of noise; black smoke billowed into the orange sky everywhere he looked. Somehow, the Time Lords had, thus far, managed to defend the Citadel, but that didn’t mean that Gallifrey wasn’t falling to the Daleks, and other time sensitive species. Many a plan to try and stop this endless war had been tried, but failed. His own ideas had become more and more audacious to say the least, but even he hadn’t thought of something quite as desperate as Romanadvoratrelundar. Almost consistently since he had been called back to Gallifrey to serve in this fruitless war, Romana had questioned his suggestions, so he was going to do precisely the same to hers. After all, it was all they either did to one another. And in reality, they were both aiming for the same thing: the end of the Time War.

“But Romana, we can’t. Isn’t that just tantamount to running away?”

“And so what if it is?” she asked dryly. “What other choice do we have if we’re going to survive?”

“We’ll lose the planet.”

“It’s a cost I’m willing to take.”

“And what about the others? Are they willing to lose Gallifrey too, just to survive?”

“I’m the President,” she hissed angrily at him. “It’s my _job_ to make important decisions like this.”

The Doctor threw up his arms in disgust. He’d had a taste of the Presidency once upon a time, and he hadn’t enjoyed it much. Romana clearly remembered that; she had still been studying hard in the academy at the time. The tone of her voice very much suggested that she was trying to use that knowledge against him. It was a palpable blow and it only served to remind him just how much she had changed since she had returned to Gallifrey and taken on the highest of positions that the planet had to offer.

“Nobody will volunteer anyway. Not for that. It’s demeaning, it’s too _human_.”

“I thought you had a fondness for humanity?”

“I do, but that’s not the point! It’s the coward’s way out, Romana and you know it.”

There was a sharp knock at the door to the Presidential quarters. The Doctor turned to face it, frowning as he did so. Romana blithely instructed the visitor to enter and the doors slowly slid open. Out of the shadows came a vaguely familiar face. He was a Time Lord with golden curls, an easy smile and infinitely old blue eyes. This man was almost as notorious as he was – though he always claimed to merely bend the laws, rather than snap them entirely. Dubiously, the Doctor shook his hand and Romana smiled wanly.

“Doctor, I’d like to introduce Veridicusanimadverto to you.”

“We’ve met before, haven’t we, Doctor?”

“It’s been a long time, Veridicus,” he stated as he regarded the man. “You’ve regenerated. The blond suits you.”

“Thank you.”

“Veridicus has offered to be our first subject.”

The Doctor turned to face him, surprised. Veridicus merely smiled in response. The Chameleon Arch was an old technology, but that didn’t necessarily make it a safe one. Even if he survived the transition mode, was placed somewhere in the Earth’s timeline, there were no guarantees he would ever regain his Time Lord form. But then, if anyone was willing to take such a risk, then it was going to be Veridicus. This type of outside of the box thinking was definitely his style. In a way, it was no wonder that he had been willing to attach himself to such a project.

ldquo;I didn’t just offer, Doctor. I suggested the whole concept to the Lady President,” Veridicus answered before the Doctor even had a chance to ask ‘why’. “It’s only fair that I’m willing to be the guinea pig, as it were.”

“A suggestion that I am most grateful for,” Romana added, nodding in Veridicus’ direction. “Are you ready?”

The Doctor watched warily as Romana prepped the equipment and placed the headpiece on Veridicus. He folded his arms, almost sulking. Then, he realized why Romana had called him here. It wasn’t because she wanted to thrash out the kinks in the concept and it wasn’t to discuss the viability of the project. She had already done all that with Veridicus himself. No, she had merely wanted to update him on the status of the Time War and to inform him of their plans. Sooner, or later, she would inform him of what fate she had in store for him.

For now, he had to watch as the first human was created from a Time Lord body.

It was a matter of microspans before Veridicusanimadverto’s screams echoed around the Presidential quarters.


	2. Part One

Patrick Jane didn’t sleep very often. His demons haunted him more than enough during his waking hours; he wasn’t about to let them run riot during his sleep. At least, when he was awake, he had things to distract himself from them. There was no such luck to escape when his eyes were tightly shut and his mind was currently elsewhere. However, on the few occasions when he couldn’t resist any longer, his dreams were startling and vivid. Only on very rare occasions did he see the butchered bodies of his dead wife and child. The rest of the time, they were completely different. He never dared to share his recollections with other people; they were utterly ludicrous, even to him. Instead, Jane diligently wrote them down in a notepad he kept stashed underneath his couch. The others thought he was writing out theories on Red John, and that was fine by him. After all, he had already spent a lot of lonely nights doing just that. At least they respected his privacy. Not that he generally gave them much choice on the matter, anyway.

It was early morning – around six a.m. – when he stirred. Jane blinked several times when he finally awoke. Instinctively, he ran a hand over his chest, almost curious as to what he would fine. For just a second, in that blurry moment between sleep and wakefulness, he had almost believed that he had two hearts. It was almost reassuring when he just discovered the one, beating out its regular beat to the upper left of his chest. Slowly, Jane swung his legs over the side of the couch and sat up. After twisting his neck to get rid of the ache he always associated with sleeping on the couch, he finally felt fully conscious. Carefully, he leaned over and his fingers searched out for his precious notepad. When he finally managed to dig it out, he grinned to himself.

Almost immediately after, he started writing: _an alternative physiology? same appearance on the outside, but two hearts? two pulses as a consequence, too. extremely long lifespan? who can live to 740 years old? internal body temperature sixty degrees? seems too cold… different blood?_ Jane read over his notes, frowning as he did so; it didn’t make much sense, but he knew that it could make the basis of a solid science fiction novel. Maybe, if he dared, he’d have words with Cho about it. Still, he studiously wrote down everything that he could recall. He was so engrossed in the task in hand that he didn’t even realize that Lisbon was hovering over him. Instead of saying ‘good morning’, she cleared her throat loudly. Jane jerked his head up in response and smiled warmly at her as she spoke.

“What are you writing about?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Nothing interesting,” he said and snapped the book shut.

“But you’d tell me if it was important, right?” There was an uncharacteristic hint of doubt in the tone of her voice.

“Right,” he agreed with a decisive nod. Then, he scrutinized her expression. “New case?”

“Yeah. Not far from here; only came to pick you up ‘cause I was passing by.”

“Thanks,” he said, grateful for her consideration. “You ready?”

He stood and walked several steps towards the elevator. Lisbon remained rooted to the spot, surprised at just how eager he was to get on with work, especially considering how early it was. After all, it was very uncharacteristic of him. However, Jane was looking forward to the distraction. Anything was better than listening to the nonsensical thoughts currently running through his head.

“Aren’t I meant to be the one who says that?” she asked.

“Does it matter?”

She shrugged. Normal rules didn’t apply to Patrick Jane and they both knew it.

They fell into a restive silence as they waited patiently for the elevator. When the doors sprang open, Jonas from Petty Crimes, along with two unusually dressed civilians, exited. Jane frowned; it was remarkably early for such meetings. In spite of that, he still gave them a cursory glance over. The girl had a short brown bob, sparkly cat-suit and a hint of wanderlust in her eyes. Meanwhile, her older companion was dressed shabbily and kept wringing his hands together. Despite his fatherly expression, Jane suspected that the pair weren’t actually related.

“But Doctor,” the woman stated expressively, “it’s all so primitive here!”

“Not to Jamie, my dear Zoe,” he answered genially. “Now, we’ll just go along with the lovely young man and we’ll…”

Jane didn’t hear anymore; they had already gone out of earshot. In all honesty, he was grateful for it. The small snippet of conversation had already jarred with him and the last thing he needed was to hear more eccentricities to fuel his dreams. Lisbon stared at him impatiently and he quickly joined her. She shook her head and sighed. Clearly, she was in one of those moods where she had very little patience. Then again, considering it was not yet seven a.m. and they were already on their way to a crime scene, she had probably been disturbed from her sleep earlier than usual.

They sat in silence as Lisbon drove sedately. The roads were beginning to get congested as the morning rush hour well and truly began. Jane watched her carefully as they slowly came across increasingly more traffic. In a way, it was sometimes quicker to get to a crime scene which was out of town rather than in the city center. The roads of Sacramento weren’t always necessarily that easy to get through at the best of times. Eventually, they slowed to a stop. Jane smirked when Lisbon cursed under her breath. For a while, he had been tempted to confide in her about his dreams. If nothing else, he thought they would amuse her. And besides, she already considered him to be a fairly strange person, so what harm could it do?

“Ever wondered what it would be like if humans had two hearts?” he queried.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“It’d be interesting. I wonder if it would make us stronger, hardier. Imagine how well the Olympians would perform…”

“Why would we even need two hearts?” she asked, humoring him.

“One for casual, one for best?” he suggested with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“And what does that mean?”

“We have a backup of other organs. Eyes, kidneys, lungs. Why not heart? It’d completely change the respiratory system too, I guess…”

“Jane?” she interrupted.

“Yes, Lisbon?”

“Shut up.”

She shot him one of those ‘you’re mad’ glances when she spoke and he promptly obeyed instructions for a change. Clearly, she wasn’t in the mood for a debate on alternative human anatomy at this time in the morning. Also, it looked very much like she was considering that he had too much time on his hands. Jane knew that between working for the CBI and hunting down Red John, he was fairly busy. However, that didn’t stop there from being occasions when endless monotony sunk in. That was when his all-too-vivid dreams haunted him the most.

Once they were moving again, he started talking about safer subjects – the weather, baseball, pet ownership and what she knew about the crime scene they were slowly approaching. Lisbon was still a little reluctant to talk at first, but as she woke up more, she grew a little more loquacious. It was always the same on days when she didn’t get her morning coffee. Jane smiled; this was what he liked about spending time with her. She would humor virtually any subject he dared to come up with.

That was except for his crazy dreams, clearly.

When they arrived at the crime scene, there was a brisk chill in the air. The park was small, idyllic, but had now been cordoned off with bright yellow tape. Forensics milled around the area, but Lisbon headed straight towards the coroner. He was a new man, and Jane watched as she shook his hand firmly before introducing them both. Soon enough, they were being led to the dead body. It was completely out in the open; a place where many people could have seen it.

And almost immediately, Jane could tell that this wasn’t the place the man had died.

There was no sign of damage to the surrounding area. No blood trails, nothing. There wasn’t even any damage to the vegetation, suggesting that the man’s body had been dragged into place. It was almost as if the body had fallen out of the sky, already dead. Without waiting for further instruction, Jane took a closer look. He already knew that the man was a John Doe, but hoped that he could find out more from his observations.

He looked to be in his late forties, or maybe early fifties. Wavy brown curls fell to his shoulders; it was quite a dated hairstyle. Then again, his clothing choices were relatively unusual too. Not as much as the young woman he’d spotted at the CBI headquarters, but enough to pose a few questions in his mind. A six-buttoned vest, ripped velvet frock coat, a cravat that had fallen out of place and even a dented fob watch, this was practically Edwardian chic. Briefly, Jane wondered if the victim had been headed towards some kind of costume party, or if he chose to wear it on a regular basis. If they’d been in Los Angeles, he’d have simply assumed that the man was an actor.

Eventually, he took stock of the man’s many injuries. From what he could tell, the man had suffered a broken arm and leg. There were countless cuts and bruises littering his features. On top of that, there were several burn marks. However, there was nothing that immediately suggested itself as being the cause of death. He hadn’t been shot, stabbed or hit around the head. There were no suggestions of poisoning, though Jane knew that the autopsy might shine more of a light on that possibility. The coroner and Lisbon both seemed to be sharing the same dour expression; clearly the new guy had come to the same conclusions as Jane had.

“Well?” Lisbon asked.

“It’s odd.”

“That’s what I said,” the new coroner replied. “Nothing seems to add up. I hope that my autopsy will clear up facts soon.”

Jane nodded in agreement. For once, he was grateful for the answers of medical science. However, he also felt slightly annoyed, more at himself than anything. He was meant to be the one with the answers, to speed up the cases so they didn’t have to wait for results from other people.

“He didn’t die here though.”

“He didn’t?” the coroner said in response.

“I didn’t think so either,” Lisbon muttered and Jane smiled a little.

“It looks like the body has been placed here somehow.”

“Yeah, it’s weird,” she agreed quietly. “You done here?”

“Yeah.”

They walked side by side and Jane turned to give the body one last cursory look. He wouldn’t have dared to say a word about it, but he almost could have sworn that the body was giving off a faint orange glow…


	3. Part Two

After what felt like a lifetime, they were back at the CBI headquarters. Almost as soon as they exited the elevator, Van Pelt informed Lisbon that the man who tipped them off as to the whereabouts of the body had arrived. She’d installed him in one of the interrogation rooms with a cup of tea and a packet of chips. The man was homeless, hungry. And he was more than willing to share the information he had about the murder with them. Jane didn’t think it would amount to much; it never did with these kinds of informants. However, it was better than nothing.

Especially so considering the man was a John Doe. There had been nothing to identify him, just a strange metal device in one pocket, an oddly shaped piece of metal – potentially a key of some variety, but Jane couldn’t have been sure – and a piece of scrap paper. The man hadn’t even got a wallet or a driver’s license on him. Even Jane had to admit that he couldn’t work that well on so little information. Anything which allowed him to expand on it would have been very much appreciated.

Lisbon barely says a word until they are in the interrogation room with their witness – a Mr. Joseph Jankowski. She still hasn’t had her morning coffee and Jane knew that that meant she would continue to be in an irritable mood for the rest of the day. He was half tempted to go and get her one himself, but he suspected that he would find whatever Mr. Jankowski had to say far more useful than she did. As good a cop as she was, even she had to admit that she needed his sideways view of things sometimes.

Mr. Jankowski jumped when they entered the room, and then broke out into a toothy grin. He seemed thrilled to have finally gotten some company. Jane didn’t know what time he had arrived at the headquarters, but then again, the temptation of air conditioning and shelter must have proven too great for a man who didn’t know where his next meal ticket was coming from. The man had probably been there shortly after Van Pelt had arrived at the office. Heck, he could even have been waiting patiently for her to arrive.

“I’m Agent Lisbon, and this is Jane, my consultant,” Lisbon stated as she sat. “You have information on a murder?”

“That I do, ma’am; that I do.”

She pushed forwards a photograph of the body for the man to scrutinize. Jane watched and smiled when he saw the flicker of recognition in Jankowski’s eyes. He looked up at them both and waited for them to ask questions. Jane suspected that this wasn’t the first time the homeless man had supplied cops with information on crimes. Who knew just how much he saw out on the streets? The homeless became so much a part of the furniture that people barely even noticed them.

“Is this the man you saw murdered?” Lisbon eventually asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, this is the man I saw, alright,” he said with a decisive nod. “But I didn’t say I saw him killed. And I didn’t do it, neither, before you ask. He was stone cold, so I figured it best to call in you guys.”

“But in the phone recording, you state that you saw him arrive at the scene? That you saw him die?” she persisted after a quick glance at her notes. “How can you _not_ have seen him killed?”

“Oh yeah, it was well weird, it was.”

“How so?”

Jane remained silent by Lisbon’s side, all the while attempting to get a read on Jankowski. The man’s report was fairly interesting, but with each and every question, he appeared to be changing his story. One look at Lisbon suggested that she was finding him increasingly suspicious. Ordinarily, Jane would have agreed with her assessment, but this time, he wasn’t so sure. The man seemed entirely harmless. His current predicament had certainly made him starved for attention, and that may well have explained why he was exaggerating his tale so much. He enjoyed having an audience and people actually paying an interest in him for a change. That wasn’t too uncommon when it came to a certain brand of witness, after all.

“He just appeared as if by magic, poof! Or, it was like he had used some kind of trans-science-doohickey to just appear on the spot.”

“Doohickey?” Lisbon echoed, frowning.

“I believe Mr. Jankowski means a teleportation device.”

“That’s the one!” he said animatedly, pointing at Jane enthusiastically as he did so.

“Right,” Lisbon answered dubiously. She quickly stood and turned to face Jane. “A word in private, please, Jane.”

He nodded and quietly excused them both. Then, he followed Lisbon out of the interrogation room and through to the observation room which had previously been empty. For a short while, Jane watched Jankowski sitting, sporadically eating his chips and picking at his fingernails. He seemed completely unperturbed by what had happened lately; it was like he had taken being a witness to a potential murder completely into his stride. A couple of seconds later and Lisbon broke the silence. She was definitely still in an irritable mood.

“He’s not telling us the truth. These stories are completely ludicrous.”

“You like him for it?”

She shook her head in response. “He’s a person of interest, at the very least. Whether or not he’s responsible for it, or just been paid to conceal the truth by the perpetrator, I can’t say without any more evidence.”

“I think he _thinks_ he’s telling us the truth.”

“He’s been hypnotized?”

“Maybe.”

Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose; a classic sign that she had an impending migraine. Jane reached out to touch her elbow and she flinched in response. This was already sounding like it was going to be one of those notoriously difficult cases where getting any information was like getting blood out of a stone. He wished he could tell her that they would get the man responsible in the snap of his fingers. But when their only witness was telling tall tales, they had no murder weapon and not even the means of death to hand, it already felt like they were getting nowhere.

“Fine,” she breathed eventually and refocused. “You carry on working him and I don’t _want_ to know what methods you use, okay? I’m going to get Van Pelt to see if this man has any history we should know about.”

“Okay, but only if you get yourself a coffee and some painkillers first,” he said bluntly.

“Jane…”

“Lisbon,” he started and he reached out to touch her again. “I know you have a headache coming on and you can’t work at full capacity if you don’t look after yourself. And if you won’t do it for you, do it for me, okay?”

She nodded and Jane smiled. He knew she would see sense eventually. He headed to the door, but paused to take one last glance at her. Jane hated it whenever she was off color; it meant she was that little more difficult to work with.

“Thank you.”

He stood aside and let her past. Jane’s eyes didn’t leave her once, not until she disappeared into the kitchenette, presumably to fix that coffee he had practically demanded she’d do. It was almost a relief to see her not behaving contrarily for a change. Usually, if he dared to give her a direct instruction, she would explicitly ignore him out of principle. There was a reason she was the boss and it was partially because she was better at giving out orders than listening to them. Then, he walked straight into the interrogation room and the company of Mr. Jankowski.

He almost looked disappointed to see Jane return on his own. Jankowski’s expression faltered as Jane took to the seat that Lisbon had previously vacated. Jane couldn’t blame him; even at her most frosty, Lisbon was still more feminine company than the man had probably seen in a while. Promptly, he stopped eating and picking his nails and instead returned his attention to Jane. Clearly, he was still eager to put across his side of the story.

“She didn’t believe me, did she?”

“No,” Jane answered. There was no point in lying to him. “As you know, I’m just a consultant for the CBI. I want to try something a little different with you, Mr. Jankowski. That’s provided you don’t mind, of course.”

He was immediately willing to cooperate. He also seemed to be one of the most receptive people that Jane had ever dealt with. At first, it felt good to have free rein with Jankowski and that Lisbon hadn’t even bothered to prevent him from doing such ‘illegal’ activities. However, his joy was short-lived. As he got deeper and deeper into hypnosis, Jankowski’s story didn’t change one iota. He was firmly convinced that he had practically seen a man fall from the sky and promptly died on the spot.

Before he had a chance to take Jankowski out of hypnosis once more, Lisbon walked straight back in. She frowned slightly, but didn’t complain about the fact he had hypnotized him. Then again, she had no grounds to do so. When she had left him to his own devices, she had said she didn’t care what he did. Her reaction seemed to make it clear that she had actually cared more than she had made out to; it was just she wasn’t in the right state of mind to instigate an argument.

“Jane.”

“Yes, Lisbon?” he said quietly.

“We have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

She glanced briefly at the hypnotized Jankowski and then back at Jane. Immediately, he knew that she didn’t want to speak about it in front of a person of interest. Naturally, she had a good reason to be so apprehensive. Without even knowing any of his history, Jane suspected that Jankowski was the kind of man who was notorious for gossiping with whoever dared to listen to him. So, he agreed to meet her in her office in five minutes while he brought the man back out of hypnosis.

True to his word, Jane walked straight into her office in precisely five minutes. Lisbon was pacing, she was still agitated. The coffee cup on her desk was empty, but clearly, it had had very little effect on Lisbon’s frame of mind. Then again, she had probably received more bad news which she desperately wanted to impart on him. Without waiting for instruction, Jane sat on the white couch he’d bought her a couple of years ago and waited patiently.

“A strange blue box has been found about a mile away from the murder scene/”

“So?”

“It appeared at the same time as our John Doe was killed.”

“And somebody thinks it’s connected?”

“I don’t; it’s under Petty Crimes’ jurisdiction. Apparently, it’s not too dissimilar to an old Police Box which was once used by British law enforcement.”

Jane furrowed his brow. That certainly did seem like a very strange item to randomly dump. Fly-tippers did tend to get rid of all manner of items, but that one was more unusual than most. Even so, he still wasn’t entirely sure why Lisbon believed it to be his business specifically.

“They’ve been trying to open it for three hours, with no success. Agent Hollis wants to borrow your expertise for it.”

“And you said yes?”

“What else was I meant to say? Our current case is a non-starter.”

Jane looked her in the eye. At that moment, he couldn’t help but feel intensely sorry for her. But then, in theory, this job shouldn’t have taken him long. If anything, it was just a simple lock picking. Even he couldn’t understand why Petty Crimes were having such difficulty with it.


	4. Part Three

Jane ran a gentle hand over the smooth wooden surface, which had been painted a bright blue. Before he had left the CBI headquarters, he had briefly borrowed Van Pelt’s laptop to look up old British Police Boxes. As he sat comfortably on his couch, sipping at his tea, he had absorbed all the information that he could. This specific example seemed like a fairly good facsimile of the old boxes. There were a few anachronistic details which threw it however. For a start, the windows appeared to be ever so slightly wrong.

During his research, he had also discovered a website on Police Box Spotting. Apparently, over the years, the thing had been discovered in all sorts of random places. Jane had considered the potential, but disregarded the theory that it was the very same Police Box in all of these locations. That just seemed implausible; the dates and places could barely match up, and besides, it would have received a lot of wear and tear from that much transportation. Instead, he believed it was more likely that there was a group of people who had made building Police Boxes and taking photographs of them in odd places their hobby. A pointless one, like trainspotting, planking and knitting, for sure, but it was better than some alternatives. It kept individuals out of trouble and allowed them to focus on something creative, at least.

Before he’d left the headquarters, he had also snuck the unusually shaped key that they had taken from the John Doe out of evidence.

It now sat comfortably in his pocket. For some reason, Jane had had a hunch that it would come in handy during the day and he wasn’t one to ignore hunches like that. He hadn’t told Lisbon what he’d done either. He knew that she would have refused to let him take it if he’d done so. She was very specific about the fact that evidence had to stay in evidence. However, Jane couldn’t see how a smallish piece of metal, or large key, or whatever it was, was going to help her make any breakthroughs in the case. She had already admitted that it wasn’t going anywhere. That was why she had reluctantly let him go, or so she had claimed. Part of him wondered if her migraine meant she just wanted time away from him and space to breathe.

But that wasn’t his current concern. He quickly returned his attention to the task in hand. Keeping one hand on the blue box at all times, Jane walked around the perimeter of it. The thing practically hummed at his touch. He could already imagine that it was well-loved and that somebody had taken great care in the craftsmanship of the object. In the back of his mind, something niggled, suggesting that the thing was practically alive.

Finally, he stared at the lock. It was for a standard key; it certainly didn’t look like it could take something as large as the key in his right pocket. Still, he ran a thumb over it and promptly frowned. The lock felt ever so slightly loose. Gently, he applied a little more pressure and grinned as he pushed the metal plate upwards. Underneath was another lock and this time, it was much bigger. Now, it certainly looked like his hunch had paid off. The slot definitely appeared to be large enough to take the key from the John Doe. And when he reported back, Lisbon would be pleased that there had been a development of some variety on the case.

It was only natural that his next step was to take the key from his pocket and to slip it in.

Almost as soon as he did so, he was thrown three feet into the air. He landed five feet away and as his back slammed into the ground, the air was promptly pushed out of his lungs. Jane didn’t have time to feel any other aches and pains. Instead, he vaguely heard somebody from Petty Crimes who had driven him here call his name before he passed out, unconscious.

Blackness quickly disappeared. It was replaced with sleek silvery buildings. Jane looked up, and a crisp orange sky greeted him. Silver leaves fell through the air; it was fall on Gallifrey. That was where he was; this was _home_. He shook his head, looked ahead and smiled. In the distance, walking at a steady pace, he could see precisely who he was looking for. Jane started walking, speeding up as he did so, until he was practically running. His robes caught around his ankles, but he didn’t let it slow him down.

“Doctor,” he called out as he ran through the streets. “Doctor - wait!”

The Doctor turned on his heels and briefly gave Jane a cursory look over and then smiled a toothy grin. Jane watched him warily as he threw the ridiculously long scarf over his shoulder to stop himself from tripping over it. He was relieved that the man had smiled; this was the first time he had personally met the Doctor, though he knew full well that it wasn’t necessarily the first time the Doctor had met him. Time travel always made relationships with people that little more complicated. Soon enough, the Doctor closed the distance between them and gave Jane an affectionate slap on the shoulder. Part of him wanted to scream out, ask where he was and how the hell he had known this man’s name, or at least, his title. The rest of him felt so self-assured and confident in the knowledge that it didn’t matter. Gallifrey’s home, he repeated to himself.

“On behalf of everyone at the Academy, I would like to say thank you. Thank you for saving us from the Sontaran attack.”

“You’re quite welcome, er,” the Doctor paused as he tried to place the young man before him. “Veridicus, isn’t it?”

Jane was about to correct him, and tell the Doctor that his name was actually Patrick Jane, but instead, he nodded enthusiastically. “Veridicusanimadverto. It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Stick to Veridicus. It rolls off the tongue better,” the older man advised.

“Yes, sir,” Jane replied, almost a little too eagerly. “Where’s your companion, Leela, isn’t it?”

“I believe she is getting to know a young man by the name of Andred, Now if you don’t mind…?”

Jane stepped aside and allowed the Doctor to walk past. With a sigh, he turned on his heels and walked back towards the Academy. Briefly, he caught sight of his reflection on one of the buildings. A young man – barely a young adult, really – with a shock of red hair and startling green eyes stared straight back at him. He moved his right hand and the reflection did the same.

He started blinking rapidly, as if that would change the person staring back at him. Instead, it changed everything because he was suddenly faced with rolling green fields. Jane took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. This was Earth, somewhere in England if he was not mistaken. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he started walking at a fast clip as he scoured the countryside, looking for civilization. After precisely half an hour of walking in solitude, he was surrounded by soldiers, all armed with large guns. He sighed heavily. Jane _loathed_ guns.

Still, he obeyed their instructions, albeit unwillingly. It was somewhat safer that way. Besides, he’d heard rumor and speculation that the Doctor had settled down in a military operation somewhere on Earth, in this country even. However, he didn’t have time to investigate. He was promptly thrown into a cell, without a single word, and left alone for two long hours. Eventually, the silence was broken by two men arguing.

“Brigadier! I demand you let this man free at once!”

“He was found trespassing on UNIT property; he is my criminal!”

“This man is one of my kind and I can vouch for him.”

The Brigadier’s shoulders sagged, in a not too dissimilar way to Lisbon’s whenever he undermined her. “Fine, but I am holding you personally responsible for him, Doctor.”

Later, they were ensconced in the Doctor’s laboratory. As Jane had introduced himself, explained as much as he could about their shared history, Jo Grant had kindly supplied them with tea and cake. The shared telepathy was often a useful skill; if the Doctor hadn’t been able to tell he was a fellow Time Lord, then who knew how long he would have been stuck in that cell?

“So, Veridicus, tell me. Have I been pardoned? Am I finally allowed to leave this godforsaken planet? Is that why you have come in search of me?”

“No, sir,” Jane answered back, sounding guilty. “I am here of my own accord. If possible, I would like some advice…”

Jane blinked again, and almost as quickly as he had left the orange skies of Gallifrey for the green fields of England, he found himself surrounded by a painful whiteness. The stench of disinfectant cloyed in the air and he coughed several times. A nurse quickly came and fussed around him, took his blood pressure and tested his reactions. Only then did the door swing open and Teresa Lisbon walked in.

She looked pale, or at least, paler than usual. Then again, she often looked that way whenever he had done something to worry her. He wanted to say something, to calm her down and tell her that everything would be okay. However, his throat felt sore and dry; all he really wanted was a glass of water. After indicating at it several times, she got the message and he took a long drink while she waited in silence.

“You okay?”

“Been better,” he admitted and a wry smile briefly crossed her face.

“You?”

“I’m fine. The doctor said you have a concussion. They want to keep you in for observation.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he was too busy focusing on the word ‘doctor’. Anything else that Lisbon had said after that point had completely missed him. For some reason, the word, the title felt important. There had to be a reason for that. The only doctor that had previously held any importance in his life was Sophie Miller. However, the person he was thinking about was definitely not her. It was a man – or was it several men? – that he was thinking about.

“Jane?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll drop by again later, okay? I need to get back to the office and work the case.”

He nodded and she disappeared without another word. Jane stared up at the ceiling and wrung his hands together as he tried to un-jumble his thoughts. It was only then that he realized that his wedding band, the one that he had been given by his wife on the day that they exchanged vows, had gone missing.


	5. Part Four

Jane dreamed as vividly as usual while in hospital. It was mostly disjointed scenes, mere snippets, but somehow he believed they were all interlinked. For a while, he watched a youngish looking man with infinitely old eyes. He wore a tweed jacket, accompanied with a bow tie and seemed entirely oblivious to his strange attire. The man looked on inquisitively and appeared more than a little bit heartbroken until a redhead dragged him away. Another man, this time in an obnoxiously loud suit cursed loudly at a group of pepper pot monsters, while a young brunette watched on. Both remained completely oblivious to Jane's presence but it didn't bother him. Later, he found himself placing a comforting hand on a terribly sad old man's shoulder. In silence, they watched his granddaughter die because he deserted her many years ago, supposedly for her own good.  
   
All of these men were named the Doctor. Whether or not they were the very same man, or different individuals who had each inherited the title, he wasn’t entirely sure. How he knew all that, Jane didn't quite know, but he was certain of that knowledge. These strange men kept popping in and out of his memories and his dreams, and he knew there had to be a reason behind it. After all, as far as he was concerned, there was an explanation for everything.  
   
Most irritatingly, by the time he woke up, he could only remember fragments. All he could remember was the alien scream of 'exterminate', the funny bow tie and the war zone where a young girl bravely walked to her death.  
   
Kimball Cho came to pick him up in the morning. Naturally, Jane was pleased to be leaving the hospital. He hated the place, it made him feel restricted and like he was always being watched. It reminded him of his stint in a mental institution. Then again, the heavy stench of disinfectant cloying in the air always had that effect on him. However, the doctor hadn't given him a clean bill of health and instead, he had told Jane to take it easy for the next few days and to come back should any complications arise. His recovery would take time. Regardless, Jane couldn't help but feel some slight level of resentment that it was Cho standing in the doorframe as he gathered together his belongings. He had hoped – practically expected, even - that it would be Lisbon accompanying him back to the headquarters. In these kinds of situations, it usually was. However, he knew that there had to be a good reason behind it; there always was when it came to Lisbon. The case had probably started picking up and maybe she had finally gotten something useful out of Jankowski. He could only hope for as much, if only for her sake.  
   
Everything ached as he walked tentatively to Cho's car. Usually, he took direct orders with a pinch of salt, but this time he figured that it was probably for the best that he actually listened. Work provided him with company and more importantly, answers. He could remember the blue box and being thrown up into the air but he couldn't recall how or why it happened. Jane loathed blank spaces in his memory palace; they always troubled him. He could only hope that the guys from petty crimes would have more useful information to tell him.  
   
And he also wanted to track down his wedding ring too. He'd asked his doctor what had happened to it and he had immediately responded that he had given it to his wife for safekeeping. It took him half a minute to realize that the man was talking about Lisbon. After all, how was he to know that it was a relic from his past; something which he wore at all times to honor his deceased wife? Though he had been something of a celebrity back in the day, most people had already forgotten about the famous psychic, Patrick Jane. Regardless, Jane needed it back. He felt a little lost without it. If Lisbon had it, then he wanted to get it back off of her as soon as possible. If the doctor had been telling the truth, at least he knew that it would be safe. Even so, it wouldn’t feel right until it was back on his finger.  
   
Cho drove him back to the headquarters smoothly and barely said a word. It didn’t bother Jane; he knew what to expect from the man. He felt at home the moment that he was lying down on his couch. The feel of the smooth, forgiving leather against his aching back did more for him than any hospital bed could have done. The hubbub of noise around him immediately made him relax. One of the guys from Petty Crimes briefly visited him and gave him his side of the story. It did nothing to fill in the gaps in Jane's memory though.  
   
And worse, Lisbon stubbornly stayed away.  
   
She got Rigsby to return his ring and he had already placed it back where it belonged. Van Pelt was in charge of checking his reflexes and the like, and Cho had kept his teacup full but Lisbon still stubbornly refused to see him. It almost seemed like she was punishing him for getting hurt while he was out of her sight. But then, he knew she would have felt ten times worse had he been injured while under her watchful eye. Sometimes, Lisbon really was a martyr to her cause. Jane couldn’t really judge though, he was twice as bad for such things.

In the end, she only came over to him after he started purposefully answering Van Pelt’s questions incorrectly. He’d stated that she was holding up three fingers instead of two, and that two plus two equaled five and the like. Eventually, Van Pelt furrowed her brow and scurried off to fetch Lisbon, who was clearly irritated by the distraction. The scowl on her face suggested that she knew Jane was intentionally messing Van Pelt around in order to get her attention. However, she didn’t say it to his face. Instead, she knelt down beside him and held up two fingers of her own.

“How many fingers?”

“Two,” he answered with a grin.

She rolled her eyes and scooted ever so slightly closer. It didn’t matter that the rest of the team were watching their every move. Next, she asked him for the address of the CBI headquarters and he dutifully reeled it off, even including contact details for each and every one of the team. Briefly, Lisbon glanced back at Van Pelt who shrugged her shoulders before returning her attention to her laptop.

“Where were you born, Jane?”

“What is the point in my answering questions you don’t actually know the answers to?”

“Just answer the damn question,” she seethed back.

“Gallifrey,” he answered quickly.

“And where the hell is that? Somewhere in the Midwest? Ohio?” she guessed.

“Ireland.”

Lisbon suddenly fell silent as she mulled over the information. Jane could practically see her working over the new information. Over the years, he had slowly but surely opened up to her, but even now nuggets like this were few and far between. It wasn’t intentional; Jane trusted her implicitly. It was simply a fact that subjects like this rarely came up between them. The past was a dangerous minefield, one which threatened to blow them up at any given time. Sometimes, it was just safer to stick to more current affairs than digging into anything that might cause either one of them discomfort.

“You’re Irish?”

“Jane is an old Irish name, you know.”

“Oh, of course. Silly me,” she muttered and rolled her eyes. “And you, you were intentionally screwing around with Van Pelt, weren’t you?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you?”

“Why?”

“Why not?” he countered and she glared at him.

“You’re impossible,” she answered in frustration. “And clearly, you’re feeling much better if you’re behaving like this.”

“Does that mean I’m no longer confined to my couch?”

“No. No! It’s been a _day_ since you were injured, Jane. You’re staying right there.”

He pouted. Jane knew that it was a little juvenile, but he didn’t care. In spite of all the aches and pains, spending three hours on his couch had been more than enough. He wanted to keep his mind active and in his opinion, that meant spending time with Lisbon. However, he could already see that she was itching to get away from him. Jane had hoped that a conversation with her would shed some light on precisely why she was avoiding him; however he was still none the wiser. Her body language was shouting out mixed messages and it irritated him further. Usually, he found her easy to read, but right now, she was all over the place. He already made a mental note _not_ to tell her that though; she would be thrilled by the fact that she had unwittingly outfoxed him.

“I will if you’ll stay with me,” he said hopefully.

“I have a very boring meeting with the M.E. in half an hour. I’m _sure_ you don’t want to listen to conversations about anatomy, do you?”

“Is this to do with the John Doe case?”

“Yes, Jane.”

“Then the M.E. might have discovered the cause of death?”

“That’s what I’m hoping, yes,” she replied dryly. Even sympathy for Jane’s injuries wasn’t enough to quell her sarcastic tongue.

“Fine,” he relented and her expression brightened a little. “But only if you tell me what he has to say as soon as you’re back in the office. And _don’t_ send the message through one of the others this time.”

The rest of the team did a good job at pretending not to hear the conversation, and pretending not to be hurt too. But they also knew that Lisbon was the person Jane was closest to since the death of his wife. A head injury was only going to exacerbate his need to be around her. Besides, they had all noticed her reluctance too. She opened her mouth briefly to retort, but eventually she clamped it shut and nodded in agreement.

While Lisbon was away at her meeting, Jane did his best to relax. His latest cup of tea from Cho remained ignored, stagnating on his side table. He didn’t bother to mess Van Pelt around when she asked her repetitive questions yet again. Jane even allowed Rigsby to talk enthusiastically about Ben’s latest developments to him and responded appropriately. All the while, his mind was elsewhere, wondering about what these increasingly frequent dreams meant and what Lisbon was up to. Of course, those thoughts were entirely unrelated, but as far as he was concerned, they were his biggest issues right now. Over the years, Jane had suffered many a bizarre accident at the workplace; recovering from this kind of thing was no big deal.

Eventually, he heard familiar footsteps approaching. Almost immediately, he sat bolt upright and for a second, he regretted moving quite so fast. Then, he saw Lisbon’s hardened expression and naturally, he wanted to know why. Maybe the M.E. hadn’t been able to identify a cause of death, or there had been some kind of delay which had annoyed her. Instinct told him it was worse than that. True to her word, she headed straight towards him and stopped directly in front of the couch.

“The body’s gone missing,” she stated before he even had a chance to ask.


	6. Part Five

Lisbon perched on the edge of Van Pelt’s desk as she briefed the team on the disappearing body. For once, Jane actually made an effort to listen attentively. There was something about this case which intrigued him now. Mostly, it was because of the apparent link between the blue box and the John Doe. Apparently, the object in question hadn’t been damaged in the slightest when it had sent him flying. And that was a mystery that Jane desperately wanted to solve. What, precisely, had the deceased been trying to hide and why had the innocuous box been so heavily guarded? Knowing _how_ the man had set it up too, would have been a bonus.

According to Lisbon, the M.E. hadn’t even had a chance to do the autopsy before the body had been taken. And though she claimed that they had no knowledge or theories as to why somebody would steal the body, she already had a suspect. A tallish man, in his late thirties or early forties, clean shaven, with close-cropped dark hair and piercing blue eyes had been spotted trespassing in the morgue. The one person who had a chance of describing him described his accent as unusual – possibly English – and had said that his state of mind was very confused. He seemed oblivious to the fact he was trespassing. The witness had offered to drive him to a nearby hospital, but the man had fled the moment he was outdoors. In silence, she handed out photographs – merely a snapshot from a security tape – to the others and Jane studied the image.

“But he wasn’t seen taking the body or doing anything suspicious?” Rigsby asked.

“No,” Lisbon confirmed with a confident air. “He did, however, steal a set of clothes from a locker. A pair of dark jeans, deep red shirt and a battered leather jacket. These were the clothes that our witness spotted him wearing. I believe it’s safe to assume he is still wearing these.”

“Is he dangerous?” There was a tremulous note in Van Pelts tone; Jane suspected it was a fear for what the man could do to another innocent soul.

“If he’s our perp, then it’s safe to assume he is. The public have been warned to stay away and call in if they have any information.”

Jane was beaming when he realized that the team was about to start a manhunt. This individual was their only lead in a difficult case thus far. As a consequence, Lisbon believed that it was imperative that they found him as soon as possible and everyone was going to be working on that same task. It took a little cajoling, but he eventually managed to persuade her that he had to go with her. He simply could not be left behind at the office, alone, with nobody watching over him in case his health deteriorated. And besides, having him with her provided them with another set of eyes to look out for this man. The moment that her shoulders slumped and she let out a heavy sigh, he knew he had been victorious.

They traveled in a stony silence. Before they’d left the headquarters, Jane informed Lisbon of his suspected link between the John Doe and the Police Box. If the suspect they were currently hunting down had anything to do with the murder, then he was most likely after something within the box. Lisbon eventually agreed with his theorization; she sent the others to search near the morgue while she and Jane were to head towards the unusual box. When Jane asked for the key back, she refused to give it to him. It was definitely evidence now and besides, he had already set off defenses in it once. She wasn’t going to give him a second chance to get even more hurt.

What he didn’t tell Lisbon was the fact this man felt vaguely familiar. There was something about his image that had set him off. He wished he’d had a chance to scan through his notebook, to work out if this was because he had a fleeting similarity to one of the many men he’d dreamed of. Then again, it was a grainy image; even he hadn’t been able to tell all that much from it. Lisbon remained quiet and Jane wished that she would fill the void between them. He hated the fact she had been trying to distance herself from him since his accident. It hadn’t been his fault; who would have thought that a box would react in such a way? Especially so as the key fit into the lock snugly; the right key was in the right lock, so what had been wrong in that specific equation?

When they reached their destination, she slammed the door to the SUV shut with more vitriol than was entirely necessary. Jane found that he had to rush to catch up with her and every muscle complained about the activity. For a brief second, he had wished that he’d stayed behind; there was always somebody around to keep an eye on him, even at the dead of the night. But then, he wouldn’t have had a chance to find out what precisely was wrong with Lisbon and why she was determined to keep him at arm’s length.

“This the box?” she asked quickly.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“What could be inside that would be worthy of murder? Money? Expensive goods? But why would somebody keep it in the middle of a park, for anybody to see and try and break into?”

“It’s got excellent defenses, Lisbon,” Jane answered back. “I know from experience.”

She shot him a brief guilty look as he spoke. He knew that it was clear he was suffering somewhat from what had happened to him only a day ago. They both knew he should have been confined to bed, but he was too stubborn and Lisbon didn’t seem to have the energy to fight against him by herself. Carefully, Jane touched the box again and it still hummed as he grazed his fingertips over the surface. A few other people walked by, but nobody seemed to pay any attention to it whatsoever. It was almost as if it was a part of the scenery; people expected it to be there and thus, it wasn’t of any interest. Except, it had been there for three days at the most and he knew it. This box seemed to hold more riddles and enigmas than it did answers.

“Besides,” he continued blithely and he smiled briefly. “It’s hiding in plain sight.”

“I guess, but, what _for_?” Lisbon persisted.

“For the owner to pick it up, I guess.”

“The owner’s dead!”

“True…”

Almost as soon as she started talking again, Lisbon fell silent. Jane watched her as she scanned the park for anybody fitting the description of the man they were looking for. Eventually, she sighed and started to walk away from the box but Jane caught her by the arm and spun her around. As usual, she looked a little irritated by his action and she glared at him.

“What do you _want_ , Jane?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he answered back hotly.

“Nothing, we have a job to do.”

“Don’t lie to me, please.”

“I thought you could tell when I’m lying?”

“I can and that’s the point.”

Jane sat down on the grass near the box and patted the space beside him encouragingly. Lisbon rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but remained stock still. He was almost pleased; it was an improvement and at least she was bothering to actually look at him now. But then, he also knew that she wasn’t about to leave him unsupervised for a second. If she did, and something did happen to him, then she would have blamed herself.

“We need to get on.”

“I’m not moving until you talk to me.”

She shook her head again and he could tell that she was getting frustrated in spite of herself. He didn’t care. It was clear that his hunch had been misguided and the suspect was not in the area. It wasn’t a large park and one sweeping glance around had told him enough. Besides, he didn’t have the energy to keep searching. He needed breaks and she needed to stop acting so frostily around him for something that he hadn’t been able to control.

“Well?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Jane stated plainly.

“No I haven’t.”

“Now, I know that deniability is usually your best friend, Lisbon, but this time, it isn’t.”

Almost reluctantly she sat beside him and stared stoically away from both him and the box. At least she seemed to have realized that she wasn’t going to win this battle between them. Usually, he found her challenges entertaining, but today, especially after his accident, all he wanted was for her to be nearby – both physically and emotionally. The pulling away just hurt him. He knew that she had realized that, but still, she was reluctant to talk. All he wanted to do was fix things between them, and that involved talking.

“You’ve been behaving strangely since before we got hold of this case,” she admitted eventually and he cocked his head quizzically.

“Strange how?”

“Stranger than usual,” Lisbon continued and she finally turned to face him. “You’ve been writing in your notepads more and when I had your ring I-“

“Hey!” a man shouted.

Almost immediately, Lisbon whipped her head around to see the person that had just interrupted them. All thoughts about what she had been about to say promptly flew out of the window. Jane didn’t even bother to mask his disappointment; it had felt like they were finally getting somewhere. Instead, he was going to have to slowly but surely work at getting Lisbon to come out of her shell again. Then, he turned to look at the other person and his face fell. It was their suspect.

Lisbon quickly climbed to her feet and her hand hovered over her gun. They didn’t know if the man had managed to arm himself in the few hours they couldn’t account him for. He couldn’t blame her for behaving so warily. However, the man made no move to arm himself and didn’t seem all that bothered by the fact she was preparing to draw her service weapon. Instead, his blue eyes flitted from Jane to Lisbon and back again before he finally spoke once more.

“Get away from my TARDIS!”

“Your what?” Jane asked, intrigued.

“What is your name?” Lisbon added.

“It doesn’t matter,” their suspect replied quickly. “Do you have the key?”

“Are you claiming possession of this box?”

“Yes, I am. It’s mine, I…”

He quickly trailed off and looked crushed almost for a second. Lisbon was still watching the man warily and he could almost read her thoughts: did it really belong to him? Had the John Doe stolen it from this Englishman? How and why did he put it here? Was he just lying to them in order to throw off the scent? He had asked directly for the key, something which he knew was locked in one of the drawers in Lisbon’s office. But even then, he could have stolen the key from the John Doe in the first place.

“You’re a policewoman, aren’t you?” he asked and stared directly at Lisbon with his piercing blue eyes.

“Yes. And I want you to come downtown with me. Answer a few questions...”

“What for?” he asked, almost surprised that she had questions for him.

“About a murder that occurred not too far away from here; we think you may have some vital information for us.”

The man shook his head, turned on his heels and ran in the opposite direction.


	7. Part Six

It wasn’t all that long until they were returning to the CBI headquarters, with their quarry sitting uncomfortably in the back seat of the SUV. The man had been surprised that Lisbon had been able to take him down with very few problems, all things considered. Jane suspected that was because their suspect hadn't been in his right mind in order to defend himself and because Lisbon had such a sheer determination to catch up with him. She wasn't going to let her only lead in this case disappear out of the park and down a dark alleyway. The case had been bothering her and now she seemed completely relieved that it finally seemed to be going somewhere.  
   
When asked, the man had told them that he was named simply the Doctor. Eventually, he added that his given name was John Smith. Before they had even gotten back to headquarters, Lisbon had set Van Pelt to work on discovering the history of the man; they needed to know if there was anything suspicious before they questioned him. When they arrived, she hadn’t gotten very far. As a consequence, Lisbon left Dr. Smith to stew in one of the interrogation rooms and assisted Van Pelt with her work. Leaving suspects alone, with only their thoughts rattling around in their brains, was one of the oldest tricks in the book but sometimes it did prove to be very effective. Even Jane had to admit that on occasion.  
   
While waiting for more information, Lisbon had excused herself and disappeared into her office to do some paperwork. Jane, meanwhile, returned to his couch. He had needled the woman enough for one day. There was no point in prodding a tiger that was already very angry with a big stick. The cup of tea he had made himself went ignored. Instead, Jane dug out the notepad he kept under the couch and stared at the notes he had compiled about his dreams over the years. There was something about Dr. Smith's demeanor which intrigued him. He knew all too well that the man who flitted through his dreams was called the Doctor as well. Fantasy briefly questioned whether or not the two were connected, but that would have been too serendipitous. Besides, he already had himself half convinced that his dreams were a by-product of having such an over-active mindset.  
   
Despite himself, he started napping. A young woman was shouting 'Professor' while a Scottish man wearing a sweater with question marks emblazoned on it laid into Jane. The Doctor was furious with him, furious with his behavior and saying that he had gone too far. The world burned around them and his companion continued to call desperately for him. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was busy discussing the politics of Gallifrey with a haughty brunette woman who had very firm beliefs in what was wrong with the place. She was young and determined to set everything right, but had been offered a wonderful opportunity to travel with the Doctor, but simply did not know what to do. However, her voice soon changed into a more familiar one, Lisbon's, to be precise. Jane frowned in his state of half-wakefulness, but as always, she was very persistent. When she finally resorted to kicking the couch, he opened one eye, then the other and smiled brightly.  
   
"Did you want to sit in on the interview with Dr. Smith?" she asked, in a quieter tone than usual.  
   
"I'd be happy enough to lead it if you want."  
   
Her frown quickly mimicked his. She was clearly still concerned about his general well-being; the fact a chronic insomniac was actually capable of sleep seemed unusual and he couldn’t blame her for that. Besides, at least she now seemed willing enough to pay a modicum of attention to him and that was a relief. There was still work to be done, of course, but their relationship had never been the easiest so he was more than used to that. In truth, his nap had refreshed him even more than he had expected. But Jane also knew that his eagerness to participate was partially due to the fact he himself wanted to find out why he felt such a familiarity to this man who claimed to be a doctor of some variety.  
   
"Are you sure you feel up to it?"  
   
"I'm fine," he answered quickly, but she continued staring at him critically. "Really, Lisbon, I've never felt better."  
   
"If I believed that, then I'd believe anything," she muttered under her breath before speaking a little louder. "But fine. If you feel like it's getting too much, tell me."  
   
"Of course I will."  
   
She shook her head and walked directly towards the interrogation rooms without another word. Promptly, Jane followed, albeit a little more tentatively than usual. It felt good to finally have something else to focus on instead of his random thoughts. Besides, he wanted to prove to Lisbon that he was in a perfectly normal mood and that nothing was different about him. As far as he was concerned, the concussion hadn’t done anything beyond making him feel that little more drained and dizzier than usual. Their conversation had been short-lived earlier, and she had hidden away since they had gotten back to the headquarters, he knew that he still had to convince her of that. With Lisbon, doing his job correctly (for a change) was probably going to be as persuasive as ever.  
   
He was pleasantly surprised when Lisbon informed him that he could conduct it on his own and that she would simply observe from the other side of the one way mirror. Jane had expected her to remain by his side or at the very least, put Cho in the room with him. However, this was something he was more than happy to do alone. And while he had been thinking of the man as a suspect, he was still technically just a person of interest. Dr. Smith seemed perfectly at ease when he entered the room in silence. Jane sat down opposite him with Lisbon's case notes spread in front of him. He sincerely doubted they would be of any use to him, but it was nice to know that it was there if he needed it.  
   
"So, Doctor Smith..."  
   
"Please, just call me Doctor, Mr. Jane."  
   
For once in his life, Jane was surprised. It took a lot to take him off guard, but he knew that he had never introduced himself to the Doctor. So, that clearly meant that the man did know him and the question was, where from?  
   
It was an obvious question, but Jane had to ask where he had discovered his identity from. The scenario was especially curious, considering the fact that Van Pelt hadn't been able to discover the man on the system during her extensive search for him. This man was as unknown and as mysterious as the John Doe whom he was suspected of murdering. Irritatingly, the Doctor only made an indistinct noise before answering with a question of his own.  
   
"Where do you think I know you from?"  
   
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."  
   
"So, why, precisely did you want me to come here?"

Jane pushed forward the picture of the deceased for the man to scrutinize. As he looked at it, he stared intently at Dr. Smith. He was notoriously difficult to read, even more so than ninety-nine percent of people that Jane ever had to work with. Still, he relished in the challenge, despite the fact that he knew deep down, he wasn’t feeling his best. Though Dr. Smith schooled a blank expression, there was a barely perceptible flicker in his eyes. He smiled; they were getting somewhere. This man definitely knew the identity of the victim.

“You know him?”

“Yes I do.”

“Where from?” Jane asked.

“The past,” he muttered in response.

It was an odd answer and instinctively, Jane reached forward to take hold of the man’s wrist. The Doctor, however, immediately pulled away and he frowned. Jane knew that reading his pulse would be an easier gauge of whether or not this man was telling the truth; he was being cagey enough with his answers as it was. Desperately, he wanted something to take hold of figuratively speaking, and for once, he sympathized with Lisbon. This was probably how she felt whenever he deliberately misled her or fed her half-truths in order to solve the case. No wonder she believed he drove her mad at work; Jane had only had to endure the Doctor and his difficulties for five minutes and already, he was getting frustrated.

Eventually, the Doctor relented and handed him his wrist. Gently, Jane encircled it was his fingertips and it didn’t take him long to get a decent hold of it. However, the very moment he did, he let go for a second before tightening. There was something wrong about this man’s pulse, even without asking a question he knew it. Underneath his fingertips, it felt different, wrong. Like in his dreams, it felt like the Doctor had not one, but two pulses. But that had all been fantasy, something he’d made up, surely? How on Earth could it have been facing him here and now, within the confines of the CBI headquarters?

“That’s impossible,” Jane whispered, letting go of the Doctor’s wrist abruptly.

“I can tell you many more impossible things,” the Doctor answered back, the sly grin still playing on his face.

“Please do.”

“Only if you give me my key back first,” he countered.

“I don’t have it; it’s locked away in evidence.”

“Liar.”

“No I’m not,” Jane claimed; as far as he was concerned, deniability was always a useful hand to play.

“Yes, you are. You’re a difficult man to read, but you’re lying. It’s in your pocket; you took it from your boss when you were in the car with her.”

The man was entirely correct and it only served to annoy Jane further. His mind was also running away with him, back to the notepad which he kept underneath the couch. If this man had two pulses, did he have two hearts? And if that, did he have a different respiratory system? What about his core body temperature? His skin felt slightly cooler than usual, though not clammy, to the touch. And despite looking like he was in his late thirties, his eyes appeared infinitely old. Just how many terrible things had this man seen to make him act the way that he did? Jane understood personal tragedy all too well and looking at the Doctor was almost like looking straight into a mirror.

“If you won’t give me the key, I want something else,” the Doctor continued as Jane avoided speaking.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Your wedding band.”

“Why?” Jane questioned; that was the last thing he expected.

“As leverage. You let me have a look at it, I’ll answer you honestly. Do we have a deal?”

Jane nodded and reluctantly handed over the ring. The Doctor twisted it over in his hands several times, but didn’t once slip it over his fingers. Slowly, the man lifted it to his left eye and gazed through it directly at Jane. For a brief second, he thought the man was going to pocket it and then they could start up with the questioning again. There was so much Jane needed to ask him; what the true identity of the John Doe was, what their connection was, did he kill them and if not, what would the motive be? And what was hiding in the blue box?

However, he didn’t get a chance to ask any of those questions. Before he had a chance to stop the Doctor, the man held Jane’s wedding ring between the two of them and promptly snapped it in half with ease. Jane didn’t get angry though, he wasn’t, he couldn’t be; too much was happening inside of his mind. Instead, he let out a piercing scream.


	8. Part Seven

He could remember. He could remember everything. His identity, his home planet, his previous selves. The Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarans, Silurians, the Time War and the Time Lords. And then there was the Doctor. The brilliant, infuriating man who has antagonized him as much as he'd inspired him. The Doctor and Veridicus had never quite been able to see eye to eye. Their methods differed vastly, despite the fact that they often had the same aims in mind. And now, as far as he could tell, it was just the two of them who were left. The other voices in his head had been silenced completely and he had never felt so scared in his life. Just what had happened during the culmination of the Time War? Had anybody else managed to escape? What of Romana, Braxiatel, the Rani, the Master and all of the others?  
   
Teresa Lisbon came rushing through at that moment and immediately started to shout at the Doctor. She wanted explanations and fast. The Doctor just stared back at her, momentarily baffled and almost amused by her tirade. He couldn’t blame him for that; when he’d been human, he’d often sought amusement from Lisbon’s fiery temperament. Eventually, Veridicus stood up, took her by the arm, and led her out of the interrogation room and into her office. Irritably, she threw him off and glared at him.  
   
"What the hell is going on, Jane?"  
   
He made an indistinct noise, a cross between a hum and a grunt and smiled at her. Simultaneously, he was feeling more and less alive at the same time. Just like Patrick Jane, Veridicus had the burden of loss hanging over his shoulders. Unlike Jane, there wasn't a single focus for him to fixate on in order to stay sane.  
   
"He is innocent. We should let him go, Teresa."  
   
"Oh really?" she asked, clearly skeptical. "Because from where I'm standing, he sounded very guilty to me, Jane."  
   
"My name isn't Jane."  
   
"Then what is it?" The tone in her voice suggested that she was almost scared of him and what he had become. It sounded foreign in somebody like her and he didn't like it.  
   
"Veridicusanimadverto. But please, call me Veridicus."  
   
"Have you drunk some funny tea lately? What the hell is wrong with you?"  
   
"Absolutely nothing," he answered simply.  
   
"Then why are you acting like this?"  
   
How could he explain it to her? Lisbon was as cynical as they came. Though she had become more open-minded since she had worked with 'Jane' it still took a lot to convince her of something that was before her very eyes. He remained wordless and she shook her head and changed the subject.  
   
"Okay," she said with a sigh. "You're having a crazy day. Just tell me why you are so convinced that this man didn't kill the John Doe?"  
   
"How can he be responsible for his own death?" Veridicus asked.  
   
"Two things: that would be called suicide and he looks nothing like the John Doe."  
   
"That's because he's regenerated."  
   
"He's what?" she responded, clearly baffled.  
   
"I'll show you."  
   
The bullpen had mercifully been deserted by the time Veridicus and Lisbon made it into there. He positioned himself in front of the couch and smiled warmly at it. Then, he turned to face Lisbon who looked completely bemused. It seemed like she was seriously considering asking for a psyche evaluation, or worse, calling for a psychiatrist directly. She knew that Patrick Jane had already had one breakdown and she was probably thinking that this was another one.  
   
"Get in," he instructed.  
   
"It's a couch, Jane. It's been here longer than I have."  
   
"Right."  
   
He snapped his fingers and the couch had suddenly been replaced by a nondescript grey box. The door to his type 52 TARDIS swung immediately open and he indicated that she should enter. Veridicus smiled as Lisbon walked in and then out again three times before turning to face him.

“This is not happening,” she whispered quietly.

“It’s real, I assure you.”

“But it’s _impossible_.”

“Anything’s possible when you put your mind to it.”  
   
"I hate to state the obvious, but..."  
   
"Yes, it's bigger on the inside,” he interrupted, with a smile on his face.  
   
"Well, yes, and that is impossible.”

“But you’ve been inside. If it’s happened, clearly it must be possible?” he stated, trying to help her to see the logic.

“What the hell happened to the couch?"

“It‘s a TARDIS. A device, a machine,” he muttered quickly and placed a hand on the small of her back. “Trust me, Teresa.”  
   
He encouraged her back in, something she seemed reluctant to do. While inside, he programmed the TARDIS for the first of three locations he wanted to take her to. Then, he explained the capabilities, but Lisbon appeared almost overawed by all the new information. This was something completely outside of her scope of thinking and he could tell she was trying to make sense of it all.  
   
"Look outside," he whispered.  
   
"Why?"  
   
In the end, he opened the door for her. They were currently orbiting the Earth and she looked astonished. He couldn't blame her for that; it did look much the same as the vistas that were printed so often and yet, it was real. Eventually, she shook her head and slammed the door to the TARDIS shut. Briefly, she took another glance outside to check it was still there, and of course, it was. Then, Veridicus stood beside her and guided her hand across to where his first heart was and then the second.  
   
"You..." she started but the words died on her lips.

quot;Not human," he explained simply.  
   
"But your family, I've seen the autopsy results. They were perfectly normal..."  
   
"Patrick Jane was a real man. He was killed by Red John."  
   
"You said this thing is capable of amazing things, yes? Prove it," she demanded.

As they traveled through time, Lisbon remained quiet. He could tell by her demeanor that she was still trying to make sense of it all. One look in her eye suggested that she thought she was dreaming it all and was desperate to wake up again and return to sanity. She didn’t want to accept the TARDIS, in all its clinical beauty, nor did she want to believe that the man she had grown accustomed to over the past decade wasn’t the person she believed him to be. It was only when he motioned to her that they could leave the TARDIS that she dared to speak once more.

“You do know this is abduction, right?” she quipped as they walked into Jane’s home on the day of his family’s murder.

“You came willingly.”

“You gave me no choice!”

“Shh,” he muttered and she clamped her mouth shut. “We need to go hide in Angela Ruskin-Jane’s closet. Then, you can witness it all.”

“If you’re right and we have traveled in time and space, then I could stop him. I have my gun and-“

“Then, you’ll cause a paradox. At least you’ll know Red John’s identity for _when we’re back in your own time_. And not a moment sooner, Agent Lisbon,” he instructed firmly.

“But…”

“You have rules in the CBI, yes? Well this time, you _have_ to follow my rules. It’s as simple as that.”

He was faintly surprised when she willingly followed his instructions. Charlotte was the first to die and Angela had been forced to watch. As Red John committed the murder of the five year old girl, Lisbon buried her head into Jane’s shoulder. Tentatively, Veridicus stroked the back of her head soothingly; just because Lisbon dealt with murder on a day to day basis, it didn’t mean that seeing it happen was going to be easy. Besides, he could still remember everything Patrick Jane had felt, especially his emotions when it came to Lisbon. He knew she was something special, that she had endured him through thick and thin. And he knew just how much she wanted to stop Red John right now, in order to prevent so many deaths in the future.

Lisbon was shaking when the real Patrick Jane pushed open the door to the master bedroom. Red John had just finished killing Angela at that moment and stepped out of the shadows to greet her husband. The man was literally a doppelganger for Veridicus and that was precisely why he was able to take over the man’s life when he underwent the Chameleon Arch process. Patrick Jane’s death happened as soon as it started, and Red John fled the scene of the crime. Vaguely, Veridicus remembered him working for the FBI for a while. If he recalled correctly, which he generally did, Red John was the FBI’s liaison officer with the CBI.

Veridicus knew what happened next. Romana and the Doctor were going to remove the body of Mr. Jane and allow Veridicus to step into his shoes. That meant it was time for him and Lisbon to leave before more Time Lords ascended on the building. It took a short while to cajole Lisbon into moving; she had just bore witness to a grisly triple murder. And now, she also knew what Red John looked like; he hadn’t taken to wearing the mask yet. It wasn’t until they were back in the safe confines of the TARDIS that Veridicus spoke to her again.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “I could have stopped him.”

“I know. You still can.”

“Right. _Right_ , I’ll just have to find a reason to get a warrant for Agent McClair’s house when I get home,” she answered, sounding more confident than beforehand. “And what about the current case? How come you are certain that Doctor Smith isn’t responsible for the John Doe’s death?”

This took a lot less time than beforehand. It didn’t take long for them to reach the precise time and location of the Doctor’s regeneration. One of the things Veridicus had specialized in at the academy was flying TARDISes alone. In the shadows of the morgue, they observed as the Doctor regenerated from the John Doe body into the man they had been interrogating merely hours ago. Once again, Lisbon remained stubbornly silent. Veridicus couldn’t blame her for that; she had had to endure revelation after revelation and all things considered, she was coping remarkably well.

“If you’re not human,” she stated carefully when they were back in his TARDIS. “What do you call yourself?”

“Time Lord.”

“That’s… very ostentatious. Why am I not surprised?”

“I should probably be offended by that.”

He started to haphazardly flick switches on the console, all the while he was aware of Lisbon’s eyes watching his every move. It didn’t bother him in the slightest; in fact, he was happy to have such a trustworthy companion with him. Veridicus knew that Lisbon was human through and through, but that didn’t stop her from reminding him a little of Romanadvoratrelundar. They were both honorable, trustworthy and had a sensible mindset. But both of them had a limitation and he suspected that Lisbon was getting to the end of hers.

“Where do you want to go next?”

“Home,” she answered swiftly.

“Are you sure?”

“I have a life, Jane. I can’t just leave it. And so do you. The team cares about you, I care about you.”

“But I’m not Jane,” he said quietly.

“I know, but there’s enough of him in you to make me see that you are the same person. I didn’t know the real Patrick Jane, but I knew you.”

“If I am the same person to you, then why can’t you stay here with me?”

“I have responsibilities. I need to stop Red John. I’m not asking you to stay at the CBI… with me, it’s your choice. But I do need to go home. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” he whispered.


	9. Part Eight

Of course, he had taken Lisbon’s request seriously. He dropped her back off at the CBI headquarters approximately an hour after they had left. As he did so, he returned the Doctor’s TARDIS key to her and she promised to release him immediately. The awkward farewells followed after, including a brief hug and a gentle peck on her cheek and then he disappeared back into his TARDIS. He needed to go before she broke both his hearts and convinced him to stay.

He had some serious thinking to do.

So, he spent some time traveling alone, catching up with the Doctor in past incarnations.

There was the time when he chose to watch the Doctor playing cricket with Nyssa, Tegan and Adric. He shared a cup of tea with him when he was painfully young, long before the birth of his granddaughter, Susan. When the Doctor needed a spare part to his TARDIS so that he could show Sarah Jane Smith the universe, Veridicus was more than happy to oblige. After all, he was the one who knew what was to come. He knew just how the Doctor was going to help him. And then there was the unknown, the things that he didn’t know he would ask the Doctor for. This way, he was ensuring that he owed him at least a favor or two in the long run.

Veridicus actively avoided the present Doctor, mostly because he was still trying to figure out what he was going to do with himself. In some ways, it felt marvelous having the universe at his fingertips once again. Without the controlling Time Lords behind him, he felt freer than he had done so for several lifetimes. There was nobody giving him rules and regulations and yet, like he had been doing on Earth, he was still trying to right as many wrongs as possible.

And yet, he still felt impossibly lonely.

His thoughts continually strayed to Teresa Lisbon. When he’d transformed back into a Time Lord, Veridicus had seen every alternative life he could have had with her. There was the possibility of catching Red John, putting him behind bars, seeking justice and solving other cases. As much as he’d tried to deny it as a human, the members of the Serious Crimes Unit were his friends. He could watch them bloom and grow in their careers and personal lives. Then, there was Lisbon himself. He’d already known that he was falling in love. It was only a matter of time before he considered moving in with her too. Getting married, thinking about starting a family and maybe even having a child. It may have been difficult, considering their respective ages, but it didn’t mean it was too late for such a thing. Having a stable and happy home, complete with a dog. Eventually, he’d grow into old age with her remaining loyally by his side. He vowed never to screw it up until they were at their death beds, side by side, just as they always should have been.

He tried desperately to focus on other tasks. Like, taking down an evil tyrant on Delta Minor or freeing a bunch of slaves on Mars. Or even just traveling back in time and meeting some of the greats of planet Earth. Cleopatra, Pablo Picasso, Mozart. People he met added color to his lives, and he liked to think he gave them something back in return. However, there were still two nagging absences in the back of his mind.

Teresa Lisbon.

Gallifrey.

As much as he tried, he found he couldn’t bear the nagging emptiness in his mind. Desperately, he’d tried searching out for other Time Lords, other people who might have submitted themselves to the Chameleon Arch process. However, it was like finding a needle in a haystack. And that was assuming that he wasn’t the only one to have undergone the process, too. It was entirely possible that the Time War had come to its bloody conclusion before anybody else had volunteered. The only reason Romana had agreed to transform him into a human was because it was the last ditch effort to ensure the survival of the species. The Time War had already cost many species their existence, and Romana, as President, hadn’t wanted the Time Lords to go the same way. Knowing that there was potentially only one other Time Lord out there now, the Doctor specifically, made his hearts ache. As hard as it was living with the burden of being a Time Lord, the species had still managed brilliant things. Gallifrey had a wonderful legacy and it had been lost, like so many planets before it.

When it came to the former of the two issues, the more he tried not to think about her and their potential, together, the more he inevitably did. It was a catch-22 situation if ever there was one.

Sometimes, he couldn’t resist the temptation. Out of sight, he kept an eye on Lisbon and watched her day to day movements. When she finally nailed Red John, his hearts practically burst with pride; she deserved to solve that career-maker of a case. He knew he’d had a helping hand in it, of course, but it was her hard work and dedication which had gotten the arrest and confession. He watched her getting on with her life, interacting with her team, at work and at rest. From her actions and her demeanor, he could tell that she missed him terribly. However, she was getting on with her life, just as she always promised he would.

Despite everything he’d done since he had discovered his other identity, it was more than he could have said about himself. He was still dwelling on the past, just like he had been when he had been Patrick Jane.

In the end, it felt like there was no decision to be made at all.

He spent a while tracking down the Doctor. It wasn’t too difficult a task; the Doctor had as much of a penchant for Earth and its inhabitants as Veridicus did. When he found the Doctor in London, England, Veridicus wasn’t surprised. It had always been his favorite country on his favorite planet. He was still alone though, which surprised him considerably. The Doctor seemed to have even more of a need for sentient company than Veridicus did. But then, it felt like it hadn’t been long in the Doctor’s timeline since they had last seen one another. It had possibly been a day, at the very most. Veridicus wouldn’t have been surprised if this was the Doctor’s first destination after Lisbon had told him that he was free to leave.

Even so, he approached with a little trepidation. The Doctor was enjoying a plate of fries, as if it were the first meal of a man who had just been released from jail. He almost felt guilty for putting this burden onto the Doctor, but he also knew that he had very little choice in the matter. There was nobody else who would be able to help him in this way.

“Doctor?” he said quietly.

The Doctor looked up and there was still more than a little hint of sadness in his eyes. He smiled weakly, but it didn’t reach his eyes; it was completely unconvincing. Then again, this Doctor looked like he had been through hell and back again. It didn’t surprise him; the man was a product of his creation. He was born out of the fires of the Time War, and left feeling weary and battle-scarred by the event. Of course, the Doctor never wanted to talk about it and equally, Veridicus felt no desire to push him into doing so. The Doctor still believed that by undergoing the Chameleon Arch transformation, he had taken the coward’s way out.

That may well have been the case, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. He couldn’t continue to live like this. Not when he had had a taste of an alternative universe, an alternative life. The Doctor hadn’t given him a choice when they had been in the interrogation room at the CBI headquarters. Instead, he had taken matters into his own hands and converted Patrick Jane back into his original Time Lord self.

“I want to be human again.”

Humans, in comparison, may have only lived for a brief, brilliant, flash, but Veridicus knew that it was far better than anything he could have as a Time Lord. There was a woman practically waiting for him to return, and like she had said herself, he had a whole life which he’d carved for himself there. Naturally, the Doctor looked impossibly sad. However, he agreed to carry out the procedure once again.

It wouldn’t be long now until Patrick Jane was back where he belonged: by the side of Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon.

_Two years later…_

The Red John case had been closed while he’d been absent from the CBI for an extended vacation. It had been eighteen months since the bastard had been sent to death row and Jane was finally finding that he was thinking about the man less and less. Naturally, he had stayed with the CBI. He didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know that this was where his future lay. He was happy now; happier than he had been for years. It had taken a lot to bury all of his demons, but he’d finally succeeded. Now he was on an even keel once more, and actually living again.

There was a slight chill in the air. Then again, it was early winter, so it was to be expected. Even so, it was still pleasant enough to be sitting outside a café, and indulging in his favorite hobby: people-watching. Jane could learn so much about an individual from just a single glance that it was hardly surprising that he found it so fascinating. Besides, it gave him something to do while he was waiting for Lisbon and his tea. Eventually, one specific couple caught his eye. A youngish man in his mid-thirties, wearing a pinstriped suit and tie was beaming as he guided his young slip of a girlfriend through the tables. They were clearly tourists; she wore a Union Jack shirt with obvious pride.

“Los Angeles, California,” the man stated loudly, grinning, as the girl listened attentively. “Isn’t it _wonderful_?”

“This sign says Sacramento, Doctor,” the girl retorted with a heavy sigh belying her young features.

“Close enough! Sacramento is a fascinating place, the capitol of California…”

“But I wanted to see _Hollywood_. You promised, Doctor!”

“The TARDIS is an old girl… she can’t always…”

He drifted off when Jane caught his eye. Almost immediately, the man looked impossibly sad and tightened the grip of his hand around the girl’s. Jane watched as he shook his head and they walked quickly off in the opposite direction.  Somehow, he felt familiar, but he had long since learned to put those nagging thoughts into the appropriate boxes. Some things just weren’t worth thinking about, not when he had the whole future ahead of him. Footsteps approached from behind and he turned, smiling, when he saw Lisbon behind him, holding two polystyrene cups in her hands. She handed him one wordlessly and they sat in silence.

It wasn’t a work day and Jane was grateful for that. As a consequence, it meant that he got to enjoy some downtime with, as far as he was concerned, the most beautiful woman in the world. She had to be, in order to put up with him and his daily insanity. Lisbon let out a sigh and started to look at her left hand. Jane knew that the ring on her finger still felt foreign to her; he had only proposed to her two nights previously and he’d been thrilled when she’d accepted immediately. Instinctively, he caught hold of it and pressed a kiss onto her knuckles.

“You okay?” she asked, when he finally freed her hand from his touch.

“Never better.”


End file.
